Mirrored Love
by Ivory Novelist
Summary: Legolas mpreg oneshot fic. Fluff and light angst. Do not read if u do not approve.


A/N: All right, this is an MPREG fanfiction. All readers beware. If that sort of thing freaks you out, leave now. I don't need you to read this and then leave a bitchy review. No one is *making* u read this fic, so don't go bitching to me about how it's unnatural or sick or any of that crap. It's fiction. Dur. I will delete all bitchy reviews - not bitchy about grammar or writing, but of the mpreg content. I had this idea floatin' around in my head and Fazy, the dear, got me to write it out. Anyone who isn't opposed to mpreg fics, go read Fazy's //Life!// right now! ( - - - shameless plug ) All positive, constructive reviews are welcome and appreciated. ^_^ Thank you. Oh, and this is a one-shot. meaning there will be no continuation! Except it, peoples.  
  
This is not a slash story. There is no other father to Legolas' child. It isn't written, but he conceived through sorcery, not willfully, but by some evil wizard dude, I dunno..The point is, no slash. He isn't gay. So there.  
  
Disclaimer: LOTR is Tolkien's genius. He's probably rolling over in his grave right now.*snicker* I will proceed to apologize and ask forgiveness...  
  
~*~  
  
Mirrored Love  
  
By Ivory Novelist  
  
~For Fazy~  
  
Another wrenched cry tore through the room, tension so thick it could almost be touched. It was late afternoon, and the sun was not so bright anymore. It's beams fell down through the window above the bed and lit up the room sufficiently, however. The door had been locked, and with it, the whole rest of the world. The bed was fairly big but simple, and the round table beside it was conveniently spacious, the wood painted black and polished. Though it was not too untidy, one might come away with the impression of it having been victim to utter chaos. Only four people occupied the room far up in the east wing of the estate, where no one else ventured. They did not want to risk discovery.  
  
Legolas panted loudly, sheen of sweat over his fair face that was now contorted with grave distress. His platinum blonde hair clung to his skin damply, limp and unlike his usually flowing, silken tresses of silver- gold. The light in his eyes had diminished, now dull with pain. His brow was furrowed as he stared into nothing, and he was propped up on his elbows. Faramir was knelt on one knee on his right like a noble soldier or something of the like, his hand willfully giving some small comfort to the Elf every time it was gripped. The Steward's lovely blue eyes were big and bright with a mixture of awe and fear and intimidation. He stared quietly at Legolas, his presence more of a comfort than anything else, as the Elf usually was himself. The Lady Eowyn was knelt on both her knees as a modest maiden on the Elf's left, across from her beloved husband. Her golden hair framed her pale face elegantly and rippled down her back. She was clad in a gown of white lace that gave her an untouched look, especially as she took a breath with the bowing of her head. Her hands were clasped around the prince's left one, yet she was also ready to give Aragorn assistance at the moment he needed it. The king sat near Eowyn, hovering over his Elven best friend, in remarkable concentration. He was perspiring nearly as much as Legolas for all his work, looking more like Strider the ranger than he had in a long while. He was so utterly focused on Legolas, Faramir and Eowyn have left, and he would not have noticed for a long moment.  
  
" Come on, Legolas," he said, glancing up at his best friend. Legolas gave him a wounded look, never having suffered so much before, and it pained Aragorn. " It won't be much longer now. You can't give up yet."  
  
" Lie back," Eowyn cooed to the Elf, her hand stroking over the Elf's head as he obeyed her. The Elf's long, white tunic was drenched with sweat and clung to his body as if he had just emerged from a pool. What was exposed of his chest above the neckline was just as sleek with perspiration as his neck and face. His chest heaved deeply, though his breaths were shallow. It hurt to breathe, the pain bursting in his stomach and blossoming up into his chest.  
  
" I can't," he said with a shaken voice as he gasped for air.  
  
" Yes, you can," Aragorn hissed straight away. " You can do it, Legolas. I know you can. You must, mellonin. You'll die if you don't." The king's voice cracked at his last words, and his eyes were glassy. The Elf's gaze locked with the man's for a moment. Legolas gathered all the strength he could from those eyes, the gray of his mortal brother. His loosened grip on Faramir's hand tightened as he inhaled deeply, and Aragorn waited once more. The Elf than bore down with what strength he had gathered, his eyes pressed closed and his face furrowed. He made a noise somewhat like a whine mingled with a grunt through his tightly closed lips, and Aragorn's whole focus was again appointed to the Elf's belly. Legolas finally could take it no longer and cried out again, with his eyes flying open wide.  
  
" Oh, Eru, it hurts," Legolas wailed as he collapsed back on the pillows, his closed eyes rupturing with tears. Faramir looked at him with eyes full of pain and pity and something almost like a boyish confusion. His hand was still tightly wrapped around Legolas', and he thought he was doing all that he could but apparently, it was not enough. Eowyn smoothed his hair and hushed him soothingly, as a woman would. She reached back behind her to fetch the damp rag on the other table and cooled the Elf's brow with it. The light in Aragorn's eyes quavered, an expression of hurt wrought on his kind face. Legolas sobbed before opening his eyes again to give him an exhausted look with his glassy blue eyes.  
  
" I can't do it," he breathed quietly. He looked as if he were dying. " I'm sorry." Aragorn replied with a look of disbelief, the sort that would come about if Legolas were dying on a battlefield. " I love you, Aragorn," Legolas admitted in a soft voice of truth. His heart beat with love for every friend he had, for his family, but more for Elessar than anyone else. He was glad that his beloved brother was here at the hour of his death. " And you too, Faramir," he sighed, moving his head a bit to look at the Steward. Faramir appeared as a lost little boy with his big, blue eyes filled with disbelief and confusion. He could not understand. Legolas could not leave him - not after he had come to love the Elf as his brother-in-arms, just as he had with Aragorn and Eomer. Faramir slowly tipped his head to one side, with Legolas still looking at him. It made the Elf choke and turn away. " Milady, your friendship has meant much to me," he told Eowyn, who wept also. " Thank you."  
  
" You're not going to die," Aragorn exclaimed. " I can't lose you now. You can't give up."  
  
Legolas' gaze finally returned to the king. " I can't do it, Aragorn. I have not the strength left." His eyes dropped closed heavily.  
  
" Than take my own strength," Aragorn said fervently. " I will give it to you freely, Legolas. I would give you anything."  
  
And then strangely, laughter escaped the prince melodically. He did not know where it had come from, or why it had come at all. He looked to Aragorn with eyes dull and wavering, a mark of his fading soul. His lips were quivering, as if her were on the verge of tears though he already wept. He was paler than usual, though his cheeks were flushed with heat. Sorrow was sprawled across his face in that moment, looking upon Aragorn.  
  
" How would you give it to me?" he asked quietly.  
  
" Tell me how I should, and I will do it," the king answered. Legolas paused for a moment, eyes fixed on his best friend.  
  
" What does your heart tell you?" the archer asked.  
  
Aragorn spent another moment looking into the Elf's blue eyes, the eyes he had always loved. They used to always hold love and joy, light and hope, passion and fearlessness. Now they were simply faded, gray orbs lacking all things, including despair, except the knowledge and acceptance of death.  
  
" I love you," the king whispered. Eowyn's lips trembled, pressed shut though they were, and tears yet fled from her eyes that rested upon her king with painful admiration. Faramir's eyes were welled up, and his chest ached with a throbbing pain, though he knew not why. The archer's slender hand was weak and cool in his own. He wished he could feel the life of the Eldar in it again, vivacious and vibrant and warm. He took his other hand and enveloped the Elf's in both of his own.  
  
Legolas only stared at Aragorn for a long moment, weary and pained and with sorrow in his eyes. Yet then, he gave the king a slow nod. He sat up a little, gripped both Eowyn and Faramir's hands as the lady blinked back her tears, and took a breath again. His eyes fell closed as he heaved down with every last shred of energy he possessed, keeping Aragorn's words in mind. The king's eyes widened as the baby's head crowned, trying to break through the opening in the archer's belly.  
  
" Push, Legolas," he urged.  
  
The Elf let out a strangled cry as his eyes opened, his hands still gripping Eowyn and Faramir's to the point where any tighter and he might've broken them. His eyes were wide as well, staring down with his head bowed to his chest. He gasped desperately, the pain threatening to undo him like he had never experienced before.  
  
" Oh, Aragorn, I'm going to burst," he wailed, panting. He was losing control, and he was afraid - more afraid than he had ever been. " Aragorn, I'm going to die. Aragorn, I'm losing it," he shouted frantically. " Valar, I'm going to burst."  
  
" It's all right, Legolas. Keep pushing, you're fine. You're not going to die." The king took one of the towels ready at hand and prepared to cradle the baby's head.  
  
" Oh, Eru," Legolas cried, throwing his head back. His chest was heaving rapidly now, but he persisted despite the tremendous pain. Faramir squeezed his hand, his own anticipation mounting, his eyes widening further. He shifted a bit, leaning in closer. Eowyn's eyes flew from Aragorn to Legolas and back again, as she waited. Legolas bore down again, pleading with Elbereth to be delivered of the pain quickly, to meet death swiftly. His scream pierced the air as his belly felt like it had ripped open, and when it died, the cry of his child replaced it. Legolas collapsed, now free of the pain and pressure. It was over, and he felt a great weight lifted from him. Yet somehow, he knew he was yet dying. Aragorn wept with a smile as he wrapped the baby in one of the blankets, cradling it in his arms. His heart overflowed with joy and love for his best friend's child, and he laughed lightly. Eowyn and Faramir exchanged tearful smiles, both beaming at the babe in Aragorn's arms as if it were their own.  
  
" Legolas," Aragorn said softly. " You have a son." Legolas gave his best friend an amazingly weak smile, his eyes glassy. " He's so beautiful," Aragorn cooed as he looked down into the baby's face. The king looked back up at the archer. " Like you." Legolas grinned at him still.  
  
" He has your eyes," Eowyn gasped with a bright smile, as she leaned over to look. " And he's as white as snow with wisps of golden hair." She touched the baby's cheek tenderly with her forefinger, as Aragorn rocked him gently.  
  
" And look at that," said Faramir, still holding onto Legolas' hand while leaning over also. He reached out and nudged the blanket to reveal a very small, delicately pointed ear. He smiled warmly, melting Eowyn's heart. " Just like Legolas."  
  
Aragorn looked up jubilantly. " What shall you call him?" he asked his immortal brother. Legolas only looked at him with the light in his eyes glimmering.  
  
" Meluihen," he said tiredly yet with a smile. //Lovelychild.//  
  
Aragorn, Faramir, and Eowyn smiled back at him.  
  
" That is a fair name," Aragorn remarked. " A very fair name." He rose with a sigh and offered the child to Legolas, who took him gently in his lithe arms. The Elf looked down into his son's face with a new light in his brilliant, blue eyes. His heart burst with pride and love and joy. And Legolas knew he would live for his child. He knew he would for many ages too come, whether in himself or in his son. He looked down into Meluihen's face and saw love reflected the small, flawless visage. Faramir's love, Eowyn's love, the love to come of every other friend he had, and Aragorn's love. He looked into that face so like his own and saw his own love. He had come to know what every parent knew, what Aragorn and Arwen would discover in the near future - that a child was mirrored love. 


End file.
